A History of Azkaban
by Borgin
Summary: Basically, all it says above.


**A History of Azkaban**

As told by Taranda

There were once happy days on Hermani-Island. There were thirty-one families living there in thirty-one small huts. The population was not more than ninety-seven. Everyone knew everyone else, and depended on each other for help and for life. No one needed or wanted anything that they didn't have. It was a perfect communal society on Hermani-Island.

Yolande was running home with her playmate Fatima, who lived in the next hut. The two had gathered some berries for Yolande's mother to bake with. But the berries fell down along the path as the two ran, and the fruit laid forgotten.

"Mother!" Yolande yelled. When her mother was in view, she added, "There are strange men on the island!"

"What sort of strange men?" her mother asked.

"They have black sheets on," Yolande told her, "and they carry funny sticks."

"Is that all, Yolande and Fatima?" Both girls nodded solemnly. "Then I should tell your fathers. They can investigate and deal with these strange men." Yolande's mother left the hut to find the men. And Yolande and Fatima began to watch Leif and Tora, Yolande's baby siblings.

When Yolande's father had returned that night, he said that the strange men could not speak the hermani tongue. "But they often mentioned azkaban," he told them. Azkaban was the hermani term for the earth and the soil, and also the name of the god of the earth. "But then they cannot be bad," Yolande stated, "but just strangers."

"Maybe so, Yolande," her father told her, "but they do not sound as if they have good intentions in mind."

*

And Yolande soon found that her life was indeed changing. Fatima and her father had fled the island not too long afterwards. "There is a great disruption in the soil," he told them, "and we need to leave before the evil-doers return." Yolande found that she greatly missed spending time with her old friend, and found herself helping her mother more and more often. "You need to find a new playmate," her mother told her, "Yuri who lives a three-minutes walk from here - he seems rather nice, Yolande." 

But Yolande was scared too. "Mother," she asked, "should we just leave? Like Fatima and her father? Because I can sense that something unhappy is arriving, Mother, and I think that it is not very good for any of our people."

"Maybe so, Yolande, but what is is what is. Do not fret over adult matters. Be a child." So Yolande went outside in the early dusk and began to play silently by herself.

*

It wasn't long before the men returned. But this time they brought scary-looking monsters, and sickly men. And there was one of them who had acquired the language, and he spoke to the great hermani men. "We will not hurt you if you do as we say," they announced.

Yolande's family began to gather belongings. "We will leave no matter what," her father announced. However, her mother disagreed. "There is no use in fleeing the problem," she argued, "we should just make the most of this situation and ask the men to leave."

But the family set off anyway. But none of them was expecting to see a guard set along the coast of the island. They pointed their sticks at the group, and mumbled something Yolande could not hear. And the people froze.

"We expected you to cooperate," one of the men said, "but you are not. We have been sent here to build a great prison. We shall call it Azkaban. Not unlike your hermani would, is it?" he grinned. Yolande gathered frozen fury. "And our dementors will guard it, taking all the happy memories away from you. For that's what the feed on..." but his words were stopped by yelps. Somehow, flames had been set on his hair. "Help!" the man screamed, "HELP!"

Another man was watching. "Which of you did it," he asked, looking straight at Yolande. "We knew there were extremely powerful people living here, but we did not know just how powerful. So you must be Yolande," the man said. "We have your Hogwarts letter sitting here. A school of magic," he added when he saw Yolande's blank look. "But we will only allow you to leave, as well as the other magical youngsters on your island, if you will help us build our prison. Our prisoners will help you, and we, as well as the dementors, shall supervise." And Yolande's parents found themselves unwillingly agreeing, carrying out the dark work of the Ministry.

*

Yolande never left for Hogwarts. She was busy taking care of Leif and Tora, as her parents had died in the hard work. The stone fortress was completed by the rocks. Every once in awhile a group of new prisoners would arrive. Many of the hermani people died from disease (as they had very little immunities) and from hard labor. Yolande had invisible chains over her power, making it nonexistent. She, and all the others who had lived through the evil work of the building, found themselves in Azkaban as well. A terrible, terrible place it was. And no matter how innocent Yolande was, she was left there, with the two siblings, in a small cell.

This was 762 years ago. Yolande died young, around the age of sixteen. Leif and Tora died in her arms three years before at the ages of six and seven. Yolande was the last of the hermani people to die, as Fatima and her father had died in the attempt to cross the water. Yolande left a legacy behind her, but it was unknown to all until someone found a small scrap of paper in the Ministry's records, reading, in perfect modern English:

My name is Yolande, and with my people the Ministry will have developed one of the worst forms of imprisonment known to man.

Of course, the scrap was found only after the dementors had turned to rank against Lord Voldemort and the light side had seemed to have fallen. But the legend of Yolande has now haunted the great people, even those who do not know of Azkaban or believe in magic, for with her all honesty, all truth, all strength lies.

*

Please review me if you have found any mistakes. I don't know if this makes sense to the common people (ie- everyone but me) but if you point out an error, I'll be glad to fix it. Thanks!


End file.
